Liquor there is, but, oh! the Bar is gone!
The long Brass Rail above the Sawdust Floor,
The gay Hot Dog, the gleaming Cuspidore,
The bright, brave Nose that brave, bright lights
shone on,
The jocund Barkeep, Ed or A1 or John,
The ribald jest I loved, the answering roar
That jangled the glasses, shook the swinging door—-
Liquor there is, but these delights are done!
In the old days when bubbles winked at me,
In the glad days when I was steeped in Rum,
I played the Prospero to fantasy,
I drank, and bade my Ariel fancies come.”
But I have lost my ancient wizardry
And mine old self, my lyric self, is dumb.